


The right thing to do

by driftweed



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Prostitution, Public Sex, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 18:55:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17534369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftweed/pseuds/driftweed
Summary: Frank helps you when you are in trouble.





	The right thing to do

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea stucked in my head for some time now and I decided to give it a try! I think this will have two or three chapters, but I'm not sure yet.
> 
> Also, I might edit this a bit. Not the plot though.
> 
> The first chapter is just an introduction. The interaction is little.

There was something about the wind that made you feel at ease. Even when you were a kid, you would always take a moment to enjoy the feeling of it on your skin. You liked to think it took away some of the weight you had to carry on your shoulders.

The day you saw Frank for the first time it was no different.

The wind was cold but not too much, and the streets were awfully quiet considering it was New York. You loved it nonetheless; the silence and the wind. You let your worries wander away by closing your eyes for a few seconds. Taking a breath, you felt nostalgia hitting you hard. You inhaled the fresh air and the distinctive smell that rain leaves behind, and a sad smile covered your face.

It reminded you of simpler times, when your only problems were getting your homework done or deciding what lipstick matched your outfit.

You still don't know how your life changed so much; you don't know when either. Maybe it was your fate, but what a cruel fate, showing you the good things life had stored only to take them away from you at an early age.

When you finally opened your eyes, you weren't aware of how much time passed and you started walking again towards your destination. Before you arrived, all the peace you were feeling was taken away from you too, images of what you would be doing in matter of minutes invading your mind.

You didn't like fucking men for money (you didn't think someone actually did), but did you have any other choice?

For a couple of months stripping was fine, but you made twice the money in half the time by giving yourself to men.

At first you said it was a one time thing. You would earn some money and move on, finding a better job. You had your share of part-time jobs, but it wasn't enough. Rent was expensive. Food was expensive. Everything was about money. If you weren't rich, you were a nobody.

After a few months you were accostumed to it all. Some would hit you, some would cry, some would be gentle... but all of them made you feel sick. You also learned that the violent ones would pay way more, so it was normal for you to be bruised and not walk straight for a day or two.

Aware of your surroundings, you started to feel cold. The wind did nothing to help with that, and the fake comfort it provided quickly dissipated. You could already see the bar you were going to. A few men were smoking and chatting when they noticed you, and the air suddenly smelt like cigarettes and alcohol. Some of them already knew you, eating you up with their hungry gazes. It just made you want to vomit.

Giving a polite but fake smile, you entered the place and tried to stay positive. At least you weren't cold anymore. Wearing a skin-tight, short dress wasn't your best decision considering the weather, but clients liked to see what was in store.

You saw the stranger right away. He was drinking alone, looking at his glass like it was the most interesting thing he has seen in his life. He had a black eye and a vibe that scared you off, so you didn't give him another glance. You were here to work, maybe get enough money to pay rent before your landlord kicked you out. Maybe enough for a hot meal, too.

Then you didn't know, but he noticed you too and knew what you were doing. He felt a little bad for you, throwing yourself at those men. You looked so young. But it wasn't his problem. It was obvious you were an adult and you could make your own decision.

When he was on his fifth shot, he stopped thinking about it.

***

It took almost two hours for you to make a hundred dollars. It wasn't enough to pay rent yet, but you would be back tomorrow, and maybe the next day.

After a few handjobs and a blowjob, all in the alley next to the bar, you cut it short and entered the place again, going directly to the small bathroom. It wasn't too clean, but it would do. You needed to clean yourself up a bit.

With your new money and now slightly decent appearence, you sat down and thought you would treat yourself.

"Whisky. Neat." The stranger was still there, and if he was drunk he wasn't showing any sign of it. No words were exchanged. You both drank in silence for the rest of the night.

It was like that for the next month. You would go to bars three or four days a week; you would do your thing, drink some shots and go home alone. When you went back to the same place you learned that the stranger's name was Frank, overhearing a conversation he had with the bartender, but there were still no words from him.

It was strange since most men there would be quick to talk to you.

Sometimes his face was covered in cuts and bruises, more often than not, so you guessed he was bad news. Maybe it was better if you didn't get involved with him.

***

It was an afternoon, the cold not so harsh. You were heading to the market for some food, but you stopped in front of a shop when a woman asked you:

"Excuse me miss, would you like to sign our petition?" She explained to you that it was a campaing that tried to raise money for homeless people and get the goverment to finally do something about it. Your memory went to the days you were almost left homeless, and about all the people that needed the help of good samaritans.

It broke your heart to think about kids and veterans and all in between not having a house to go to when it got too cold or they were too tired. You had some money left after paying rent two weeks before. It wasn't much but it was all you had left. You thought about the food you were going to buy but the images of homeless people won over.

You gave them all your money and walked back home. You still had some canned soup anyway.

***

A couple of weeks later there was still no luck with a better job, so you got up from bed and walked towards your closet.

Your apartment was small, and it wasn't in the best part of town, but you tried your best to make it cozy and cute. Not like anybody visited you. Lately, you were short on friends too.

The only friend you had was your neighbor Rachel. She was a couple of years older than you and had a son you were very fond of. She was a sweetheart, but you still didn't trust her enough to vent about your daily torture, too scared of the judgement you could receive. However, it helped spending time with her and the little boy because they gave you another perspective. They were your little family.

It wasn't long before you found what you were looking for. An animal print skirt that you paired with a black top and black heels. A little make up on and you were ready for the night to start.

(Just a little more. It won't be like this forever.)

***

The wind got harsher as you walked and you suddenly started feeling weird. You had a bad feeling in your gut that told you not to leave with any guy. It would be like that sometimes, but you were already at the bar and a few drinks wouldn't hurt you, right?

The emptiness was not new to you, but you were second guessing going out at all.

Lighting a cigarette you asked yourself if you needed the money so bad. You still had some from last week, so maybe it was better if you just drank and went home.

Your hands were turning red from the cold, you took the last drag and discarded the cigarette making your way inside.

Frank was there again, sitting in his usual spot on a stool. Today he had no bruises nor cuts on his face. He was nursing a beer and you observed his hands: bloodied knuckles, rough skin. He looked like the kind who liked to fight, and his wounds and scars were there to prove it, but close up you observed he was off. He looked... defeated. Almost sad.

"Whisky. Neat." It was rude to stare, and you stopped it.

Rick the bartender poured a generous amount of alcohol and gave you a small smile.

"Thanks." You had your drink gone in one gulp.

"Rough night?" His question startled you a bit so you didn't give him a quick reply.

"You could say that, yeah..." Rick poured you another drink. "What about you?" He wasn't staring anymore when you looked at him.

"Rough year." A humorless laugh left his throat and you were sure it was the saddest thing you heard in awhile. And that was a lot to say.

You both remained quiet for the longest minute before you gave him your name.

"Frank."

"I know." You said but corrected yourself quickly. "I mean... I've seen you around."

"Yeah... me too." He looked at you then and you suddenly felt small and embarrased. Of course he had seen you. You were there a lot more since the winter begun. You had more bills to pay now.

Before you could say anything else one of your clients started walking towards you, and it didn't go unnoticed by Frank how tense you got.

"Hey, babe. Do you think you can help me with my problem?" You gulped down the rest of your drink and stood up with your coat hanging off your arm.

"I'm sorry, but I'm heading home for the night." Your voice was firm. No way you were fucking him tonight.

You paid for your drinks and were about to leave after saying a quiet goodbye to your newest acquaintance. However, the jerk had to insist.

"You know I pay well." He carressed your face and you flinched when he touched you, but didn't have it in you to tell him to fuck off.

"She already said no. You don't get the hint, do you?" Frank was facing the bar but talked with authority. The muscles on his back flexed and you saw it even with the sweatshirt on. He was ready to fight if he had to.

It was an embarrasing situation for you. For some reason you didn't want Frank to know that you were working as a hooker. It was unlikely not to know it by now.

"Eric." You said softly, taking his hand on yours and trying to distract him from listening to Frank. It was nice of him to help you, but you didn't need him to scare him off. "Just... not today. Okay?"

He didn't answer but gave you a glare. "I think she can talk for herself." The words were directed to Frank and an angry growl left his mouth.

It was obvious Eric had to many drinks and Frank didn't want to pick up a fight with him. He didn't need the police on his tail again. But how could he leave it be when he saw that idiot rush you to the alley next to the bar? How could he not do anything when he saw the look in your eyes? You weren't scared, you looked empty, and he was afraid you wouldn't be able to defend yourself.

You were already gone when he paid for his drinks and put on his leather jacket. He wouldn't let a jerk assault you.

Only a minute passed since your client took you to the damn alley, but you were resisting a little. That made him mad, and he hit you splitting your lower lip. It stung, but you were to preoccupied trying to get yourself out of that nightmare.

He rummaged through his pocket until he found a switchblade.

"I will cut you if you don't obey. I was going to be nice, but since you are being a little bitch..."

His words were cut short when he noticed your savior. Your eyes were closed and filled with tears, so it took you some time to notice Eric wasn't hovering over you anymore.

In fact, he was focusing on his opponent, knife in hand and trying to circle him.

You didn't sense the wind this time, and even if you did, it wouldn't have calmed you.

The next minutes you were scared. Eric made a nasty cut on Frank's hand but it's all he managed to do, because he was on the ground seconds after. It only took one hit to knock him out.

You looked at Frank and knew you were crying when a tear felt to the ground.

"Hey, are you hurt?" You didn't respond and fell to the ground too, hugging your knees and ignoring the numbing cold. Frank continued speaking to you but you couldn't hear a single word. You weren't crying because of this incident, but because you thought of what could have happened if Frank wasn't there. Of what could happen if you didn't find a better job soon. Was this all you were supposed to do in life?

The man sat next to you and put his jacket around your legs, knowing the tights weren't doing a great job keeping you warm.

Four minutes later you calmed down and let him walk you to your home.

***

The walk wasn't too long but it was quiet. Besides you thanking him, you didn't know what else to say. You guided him to your house and had a fight in your head.

His hand was still bleeding. He just helped you out of a bad situation. You didn't like men from that bar coming to your house, but he was different, right?

Maybe he wasn't, but you invited him in. It was the right thing to do.

"Why don't you come with me? I could take a look at that. It's the least I can do..." Your gaze was fixated on the sidewalk as you spoke, but he knew that you were refering to his cut. It didn't matter to him. It was just a scratch compared to other wounds he had, but it didn't feel right to leave you alone.

"Okay." Was all that he said.

You nodded and entered the building.

When you opened the door to your apartment Frank observed everything. You didn't have much, but it was cozy and clean. He looked at a few photos you had on a shelf.

"I don't know much about first aid, but I can try." Your voice was still off.

"It's okay." He said shaking his head. "I've had worse." You cleaned his cut anyway. It only took a minute, but it seemed it was an hour because of the tension. There were unspoken things he wanted to ask, and you were too distracted thinking about what you were about to do.

His hand felt warm and you didn't want to let go, but you had to. You undid your belt and started taking your clothes off.

Frank's expression was stoic. "What... what are you doing?" The confussion in his voice was as evident as the one on your face.

"I don't have money. It's the only way I can pay you back." You whispered loud enough for him to hear. "I let you fuck me and we are even. Okay?" You resumed your task but he was quick to stop you.

"Hey, hey... I don't... you don't..." It was the first time in his life he was short on words. "I helped you because I can't see assholes being assholes. You don't have to pay me, girl. It was the right thing to do." He looked at you with a frown. "I'm not that kind of guy. I don't force women."

He was getting a little angry just because you suggested it, and it made you feel extremely exposed. You hugged yourself for some comfort.

"I think it's been a rough night. Maybe it'll be better if I go now."

Frank waited a bit for you to say something, but you didn't. He touched your cheek; you leaned in. "Take care." And with that said, he was gone. 

 

 


End file.
